and Rumi’s poetry, are reminders of experience,
larger and deeper ways we readers and listeners might live.
The words describe a taste of grandeur and love, and as they keep
telling us, you cannot do that: it’s impossible to describe such
wonders. The great winetasters may come as close as one
can get. But try to tell me, really, about a pistachio,
or something you have never tasted. Say what
you want, eventually we have
to taste to know.
commentary on The Drowned Book
